Someday our Ba will figure a way to get free, to get out of Burma, and then we'll all of us be together. And he will sit and tell me his own stories and his own poems for himself, just like Maá used to say he would
He doesn't know that his Ba passed away last year...(Queeny)
The Bone Sparrow burns hot around my neck, and I rub at it with my thumb, rubbing my story deep into its bone. Tomorrow, everything will change. But I'm ready. The Shakespeare duck says it's tough luck if I'm not.
For just the tiniest of moments, that wind picks Jimmie right up off the ground, and she's in the air, higher and higher until her head brushes against the stars. She laughs and smiles back at me, shining and beautiful.